


Welcome Back, Sherlock

by LunaWolf1101



Series: Welcome Back Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaWolf1101/pseuds/LunaWolf1101
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson met through Mike Stanford, who knew they were both looking for a flatmate and set them up together. He knew they would be perfect for each other. They had grown close after just one day of being together and eventually started to develop feelings for each other. They start dating after about a year after meeting and both men are the happiest they've ever been. But then Sherlock jumps. And John waits for Sherlock to come back, for this to be just another trick. He waits and waits and waits. When Sherlock comes back, though, John has changed. And not for the better.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Welcome Back Sherlock [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944571
Kudos: 5





	Welcome Back, Sherlock

It was just an ordinary day at 221B Baker Street. A dark and curly haired detective lying on the chair, wearing only his bed sheet, bored. His blond friend, the doctor, reading out possilbe cases to him, all of them getting shot down quickly. And the landlady, who is the closest thing to a mother that the two of them have, making tea. She had gotten quite tired of all the noise, all the chaos that came with living with these two men. However, Mrs. Hudson cared deeply for her boys and knew that they wouldn't survive without her. After all, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were practically her sons now.

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone went off with a text alert. He sighs and orders the doctor to get his phone, which was really only about two feet from him on the messy table. Sherlock reads the text out loud to his friend. "Sherlock, I found a case for you. There's a man dead from a hit to the back of the head. There's no visible weapon and a witness, possible suspect." He looks up the location of the murder and decides he might as well go. He is extremely bored after all.

The two friends get a cab to the scene, chatting a little on the way there, Sherlock impressing John with his intelligence. He liked showing off to his friend, didn't know why, just loved it. The doctors eyes slipped to his lips as he was trying to teach John how to tell when someone is lying. John stared, almost longingly, but tore his eyes away after a few seconds. Sherlock noticed this, of course. He noticed everything. However, he liked the attention from John, so he decided not to talk about it, just continued bragging, with a small smirk on his face.

Sherlock had known about the feelings John had for him ever since the day he met Moriarty at the pool. He believed he returned them, but seeing as he was never good with his own emotions, he was nervous he was wrong, he didn't want to ruin what the two of them had. Sherlock's feelings worked a bit differently than John's. Sherlock felt empty inside whenever John wasn't around. However, he knew that whenever John was around, his pulse would quicken, his mind worked faster. He couldn't help but stare whenever John wasn't looking.

The case had almost been solved by Sherlock when a loud helicopter. A police officer walked over and said that they needed to go. There were two men standing there in expensive suits, one of them holding clothes for Sherlock, who instantly knew who the two men were and where they were being taken.

"What, is he supposed to change in there, then?" John gestured to the helicopter. One of the men nodded curtly and John blushed slightly, knowing that there was a pretty high chance that Sherlock wasn't wearing anything underneath his bed sheet. The detective refused the clothes and the two well dressed men insisted that he wore them, but he declined, rather rudely.

After a mostly silent flight that felt longer than it actually was, Sherlock and John were directed to a large sitting room inside of Buckingham Palace. The two of them sat next to each other on a couch in slightly awkward silence, Sherlock staring straight ahead, out the window, and John glancing around, admiring the palace.

John started to wonder about Sherlok's... attire and chose to break the silence. "Are you wearing any pants?" He hasked, staring at his best friend, a small, barely noticeable smile on his face.

Sherlock responded with a quick, "No,"to which John responded with a quick nod.

John quickly looks away, realizing he was staring at his flatmate, daydreaming about what it could be like if the two of them could be together. When he looks back at Sherlock, however, he sees the detective also turning his head in his direction, and the two of them bursted out laughing.

"At Buckingham Palace, right," John chuckled after regaining his breath slightly. "I am seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray."

The two began laughing hysterically again. John loved it when Sherlock laughed. He loved every single detail about his flatmate, and now was the time to tell him. "Sherlock," the doctor started, but decided not to say anything. It wasn't the right time. He quickly recovered from the almost embarrassment that he would've caused himself and says, "What are we doing here? Seriously, what?"

"No idea," Sherlock answered, still smiling.

"Here to see the queen?"

At that moment, Mycroft walks in from the next room. Sherlock smirks, "Oh, apparently yes."

Mycroft sighs in frustration. "Just once, can you two behave like grownups?"

John smiles and says, "We solve crimes, I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I would'nt hold out too much hope."

Sherlock looks up to his brother, all playfulness from seconds earlier gone from his face. "I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft."

"What, the hiker and the backfire. I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?"

"Transparent." John looks slightly startled and in awe at the fact both of them figured it out in one look.

"Time to move on, then."

Mycroft picks up the clothes from the table and offers them to Sherlock, trying to convince his brother to wear them, but he still refuses them. The enquerry joins the three of them and introduces himself. Sherlock is informed that his client is anonymous, and stands up, frustrated. He starts to walk out of the room, but Mycroft steps on the sheet, causing Sherlock to almost drop it. John finds himself staring at Sherlock, once again, blushing like mad. Sherlock can feel his friend's eyes on him.

"Get off my sheet," he growls through clenched teeth.

"Or what?" Mycroft smirks.

"Or I'll just walk away."

"I'll let you."

John intervenes, not wanting this to turn into a full fledged fight. "Boys, please, not here."

Sherlock, still raging with anger at the anonymity of his client, continues glaring straight ahead. "Who. Is. My. _Client?"_

Sighing in diappointment, Mycroft gestures to the room surrounding the four men. "Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake!" He glances to the equirrey and tries to get his anger under control. "Put your clothes on!"

Reluctantly, Sherlock takes the clothes and leaves the room, knowing that Mycroft is too stubborn to let him stay in the sheet. He changes quickly and comes back inside.Harry and Mycroft tell Sherlock about Irene Adler, or, The Woman. How she has blackmail against almost every man, and evern most women in Britain. Irene is very powerful and Sherlock must get her information on the queen.

On the ride back to their flat, John is debating on telling Sherlock about his feelings. He knows that Sherlock has probably already found out through his deductions, but, being as bad at emotions as he is, probably hasn't thought much about it.

Not wanting to embarass himself, John decides to talk about what had just happened. "Okay, the smoking, how did you know?"

"The evidence was right under your nose, John, as ever you _see_ but do not _observe_."

"Observe what?"

"The ashtray," Sherlock smirks and pulls the glass container out of his pocket as John laughs.

Sherlock chuckles softly too as he tosses the ashtray in the air quickly before putting it back in his pocket. John grins at his best friend. His beautiful, intelligent, perfect friend. When he sees the beaming Sherlock, his mind wanders back to how strong his feelings are and he argues with himself, wishing he could say it without saying it.

Just like always, though, Sherlock reads John's mind and his face falls, knowing something serious is on his mind. "There's something else."

John sighs, knowing he can't get out of it now. He looks over at Sherlock and his annoyed expression turns into a softer, more sweet one at the sight of his flatmate. He takes a second to think, not knowing how to word this. Eventually, he decides to just come out and say it. "I... I think I have feelings for you."

Without missing a beat, Sherlock replies with, "I know."

"That's it? 'I know!'" John feels the anger boiling in his blood. The anger at himself for being stupid enough to say something about it. The anger at Sherlock for being so awful with emotions that he can't even tell if he DOESN'T feel the same way. And lastly, the anger at his feelings for confusing him and making things awkward between the two of them.

"Oh, don't be angry, John. You and I both know I'm not good with... emotions."

John sighs, face flushed a deep red. "So when do you want me to leave, then?"

"Leave?" Sherlock turns so fast, almost giving himself whiplash. He sees the tears in John's eyes from the reflection in the window. "You think I don't want you anymore?" John nods and Sherlock feels his heart break slightly at the thought of him leaving. How could someone like him possibly think Sherlock wanted him gone? He's speechless for a moment, before he mutters one small word. "Why?"

"Why would you still want to live with someone who is in love with you if you can't even return their feelings?"

"John, look at me." When he doesn't, Sherlock gingerly places his hand on John's shoulder, who is trying his hardest to keep a straight face. A few seconds later, John turns to look into Sherlock's beautiful, unique eyes. Sherlock drags his hand gently down John's arm to grab his hand and then rests his other hand on John's cheek. He sighs softly, just wanting to hold John in his arms like this for forever. "We both know that I'm not good with emotions. However, I _do_ know that something is different when you're not around."

John smiles and leans his head into his friend's hand. "Sherlock..."

"And I'm sorry, if I don't know stuff, and if I can't do anything right, but-"

" _Sherlock"_ John interrupts, holding back a laugh. "You don't need to apologize for anything. I'm just glad this wasn't a waste of energy."

Sherlock chuckles a little and leans a little closer to John, glancing down briefly at his lips. The cab slowly starts to come to a stop and Sherlock jumps back, blushing, and tosses way too much money in the drivers general direction. He says to keep the change and the two men hurry into the flat.

John had just taken a cup of tea from Mrs. Hudson when he hears the soft thud of stuff being thrown around. He goes over to Sherlock's room, confused as he sees clothes flying across the room.

"What are you doing?" John takes a small sip of tea to hide the grin forming on his face due to whatever Sherlock's doing.

"I'm going into battle, John, I need the right armor."

Sherlock appears in the doorway wearing a pair of jeans and a neon yellow reflective jacket. John bites back a smile and almost fails to keep himself from laughing.

"Do you want some help?" John offers and sets his cup down, internally grinning at the flustered state of his friend.

"No," Sherlock replies quickly and runs back into his room for a few minutes then comes back out, having changed back into his clothes from ealier.

In a cab, Sherlock and John are trying to figure out what to do about this 'Irene Adler.' John grabs Sherlock's hand and smiles at him quicly before going back to business.

"So what's the plan?"

"We know her addess," Sherlock responds like it's obvious.

John turns back to his friend, knitting his eyebrows in confusion but sees him also staring out the opposite window. "We just ring her doorbell?"

"Exactly," Sherlock looks ahead, "Just here, please," he tells the cabbie and hands him the money.

John glances at Sherlock's outfit, surprised. "You didn't even change your clothes."

"Then it's time to add a splash of color," Sherlock smirks

They get out of the cab and John looks around. "Are we here?"

"Two streets away, but this'll do."

"For what?" John asks as Sherlock takes off his scarf and folds it up.

Sherlock tosses his scarf on to the ground. "Punch me in the face."

"Punch you?"

"Yes, punch me, in the face. Didn't you hear me?"

"I... always here punch me in the face when you're talking, but it's usually subtext."

Sherlock sighs, clearly starting to get agitated. "Oh, for God's sake!"

He punches John. After taking a few seconds to recover, John punches back. Sherlock stammers something along the lines of a thank you, but John tackles him and jumps on his back, arms around Sherlock's throat.

"You ought to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier. I've killed people," John threatens and squeezes his arms tighter around his friend's neck.

"You were a doctor!"

" _I had bad days!"_ John yells back.

Sherlock falls to the ground, unable to support John's weight any longer, especially with the lack of oxygen. John gets up, grinning, and Sherlock follows then pounces on his friend, purposely knocking him over. Sherlock flips them over so he's on his back and John turns a bright pink then smirks and leans down to press a quick, yet passionate kiss to Sherlock's lips.


End file.
